“Not a thing,” answered Rawson. “But we were at a disadvantage; not enough light, and it’s a good-sized place. There’s a big store-room full of junk, messed up with stuff, and one of the electric bulbs is broken. We couldn’t go over that thoroughly, and he may have found a cache there. We’ll comb it over to-morrow morning by daylight. Of course he could have got out on the island--all that kitchen wing’s kept open. He might have been lying low up there all yesterday and have come down last night.” “And his sister saw him.” Williams laughed with good-humored derision. “You didn’t get anything out of her, Rawson.” “No, I didn’t. She’s either a very smart young lady, or an entirely innocent one. I’m not sure which. But she _did_ lead us to believe he’d gone when he hadn’t, she _did_ come down-stairs on a pretty fishy errand, and she _did_ forget the name of the hotel he’d gone to. All quite possible but--well, we’ll know to-morrow.” He walked to the window and looked out. “Dark as a pocket!” He turned to Bassett: “When the tide’s full out could a person get across that channel except by the causeway?” “There are places where they might swim the stream in the middle. It’s a deep strong current but a good swimmer could do it.” “He might try it--he must be pretty keen about getting off here. You know this shore-line. Suppose you go down and take up a station below the boat-house among those juniper bushes. That’s a place a person might use as a sheltered start for a get-away. You can’t see but you can hear. Take Williams’ gun, and if there’s a sound, challenge, if there’s no answer, shoot. I’ll come down with you, I want to take a look at Patrick and I’ll stay round myself for a while.” He stepped to the sill of the window but Williams, feeling for his revolver, stopped him: “Hold on a minute. I got an idea that I think’ll help a bit. I’ve been thinking of it all day and if I’m not mistaken it’ll land your man or your woman neater and easier than lying in wait for them outside where they know by this time we’ve got a guard.” Rawson turned back into the room: “Let’s hear it--we want to clear this up to-night. But, Mr. Bassett, you go on. Stop and tell Patrick what you’re doing and see that he’s on the job. I’ll be down with him later, unless Williams’ idea opens up something new.” Bassett took the revolver and stepped out of the window. The night was muffling dark; beyond the long squares of light the windows cast, it lay a velvet blackness, the murmurs of the falling tide issuing from it as if it had a voice which was whispering its secrets.